Bring forth the Sand Horde

Gra'akast

When he started to speak he did so softly, with large pauses, talking about regret and grief. About the loss of life and how some pain was shared by all, at the lost of a mother or a father, a son or a daughter. To know love was to know loss.

Tamazzalt was an exquisite orator. He had a life time of practice. His was the voice of a loving teacher or tutor, calibrating his timber and body to capture the feelings in his audience and build on them.

As he speech went on his voice started to get louder and his gestures sharp and poignant. He spoke of the old ways, the time the Ozainae had conquered and tames the desert, of the conquest of the dread Skara, the exodus of the Neph-Kin, how they had stormed Fang bringing low its mighty civilazation, how the. Great Desert of Skulls was the beating heart of Arcadia.

Shalia - Standing at her shoulder, Amastan did her best to translate his words into Odon. He spoke of the the dangers of ignoring prophecy, how allowing the Helians to gain a foothold in their lands had been the most severe sin against the Twins. And how the price they were now paying was too steep looking at the young woman's body. He spoke of Helian influences across the landa, leashed by their demon masters to come and destroy their way of life. And how it was their duty to raise the standard, to raise arms, against Evil.

Voah - You had seen it all before. Charismatic men and women, that could bend words like some vent reality. Wordsmiths, they called some back in the Shrine-Cities. Those that could deliver powerful sermons and hold an audience captive, in rapture. You did not need to understand his language to know what he was doing. He was whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Slowly building on their insecurities, feeding their fears, leading them down the path he wanted them to take, stoking the small fires into a blazing anger, pointing an a common enemy, finding scapegoats. She didn't understand much, but she knew what he was doing. She was raising them to war and hate of her people. Suddenly she felt observed and turned her head, her instincts kicking in. Deep into the crowd, twenty or so men to her left, was a man with white eyes looking straight at her. Sniffing the air...

Gonyaul - Sadness turned to anger too quickly for his liking. He did not like one bit where this was heading. He had spent enough time hiding as was the way of his people to know when a situation was becoming to dangerous to handle. Even masked, the wrong move could mean certain death. He did not need to understand their language. He has seen it many times, but never at this scale. Even at the execution back in the city. These were the words of genocide. He suddenly felt afraid for Voah, himself and anyone caught in the path of what was being born here. He watched as the man lifted his torch and touched the pyre. The flames leapt high into the night sky as a huge roar sounded across the city.